


Two times

by goodtimes



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional handjobs, Hair-pulling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodtimes/pseuds/goodtimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yikes! this is emotional and terrible. silver and flint fuck and then they're sad for a bit and then flint jerks silver off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two times

They fuck for the first time in Flint’s cabin, Silver’s hair damp from the sea and sweat between Flint’s fingers as he pulls at it, makes him arch his back and tighten his grip on Flint’s shoulders. Silver moans and Flint pulls him closer, his other hand at the small of his back, balancing him on his thighs. Flint is dressed only in that white shirt that always seems to leave more skin exposed than it covers, his trousers abandoned on the floor besides the captain’s chair. Flint slides his hands down over his sweat slicked skin, grabs onto his hips and aids him in lifting himself up, fucking himself down on Flint’s cock. Silver’ eyes are closed in bliss, his mouth open in a half groan, half chuckle.  
“See?” he breathes out, and then “Oh fuck” as Flint digs his fingers into the meat of his ass, presses him down against him hard. “I told you we might end up as friends.”  
He must have known that the comment would piss Flint off, because he just grins as Flint scowls at him and tells him to shut up. He rolls his hips, letting out a long noise every time he presses down, and circles his arms around Flints neck.  
“Fuck me captain”, he says against Flints lips, out of breath and shamelessly rubbing his hard cock against Flints stomach.  
“If you think writhing on top of me like some cheap whore is going to win me over you’re wrong” Flint says, but he can’t stop his hips from buckling up to meets Silver’s movements and that kind of takes the air out of the fear he was trying to instill in Silver.  
Silver ends up coming when Flint clasps a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. The muscles in his stomach quiver visibly and he moans so desperately against Flints hand that he thinks, maybe this wasn’t all an act. When Flint comes inside of him he lets out a choked noise and leaves bruises on Silvers skin. 

The second time is different. Flint sees Miranda fall. He closes his eyes, tries to empty his mind. A gunshot tears through the quiet and he sees her fall again. Her blood stains the wooden planks of the cabin floor. He blinks and its gone. He thinks that James McGraw might have died when she did. But as her body collapses in front of him for the hundredth time he looks at Silver sleeping beside the window behind her. So much has changed between them, so much has changed inside both of them. Silver has never looked like this. So small. And something tugs at Flint’s heart, something from another life.  
When Flint informs Silver of his new title of quartermaster he isn’t happy. Flint doesn’t know what he expected, but he realized he had hoped for something different. Silver just stares at his stump leg with a blank expression.  
“You can stay here as long as you want” Flint says. They both know that there’s no medical reason that Silver shouldn’t sleep with the rest of the crew. When Flint looks at Silver he is reminded of himself, ten years ago, when he had to leave England. He doesn’t understand why Silver seems to be so stricken with grief over the loss of a limb, but he does start to understand why Miranda always seemed to have an easier time to deal with their exile than he did. Having someone to take care of distracts you from your own grief. Flint takes care of Silver. He brings him food. When the wound gets infected and he’s weak with fever Flint even feeds him when they’re alone. They don’t speak, and Silver won’t look him in the eye. Flint is almost relieved. 

When the fever clears, Silver puts on a makeshift prosthetic made from Randall’s old one, made tighter for his smaller leg with scraps of leather. It’s too long for him, though, and there’s no way to fix that. He limps around on deck, his face tight with pain. He doesn’t speak to Flint, but at night he still comes into his cabin to sleep. Flint doesn’t think it’s because he prefers his company, but because Flint has already seen him without the prosthetic and the crew hasn’t. After three days the ship’s doctor pulls him aside.  
“He’s not supposed to be walking on that leg yet, and he’s not cleaning it as much as he should. He’s going to get sick again, and this time he won’t survive” he says bluntly. He puts a hand on Flints shoulder. “If you don’t do something, he’ll die. I can’t get through to him.”  
Flint sighs and rubs his temples. He considers doing nothing, letting the kid kill himself. Billy would become quartermaster, but he can handle Billy. He closes his eyes and sees Miranda, thinks about what would have happened to him if she hadn’t forced him to keep living all those years ago. 

That night he drags his chair over to alcove by the window, to Silver who’s halfway to sleeping already. He reaches out to lift the blanket covering Silver’s stump, but a hand shoots out and catches his wrist. Not as far gone as Flint thought, apparently.  
“What are you doing?” It’s dark in the corner of the cabin and Flint can’t make out Silver’s expression. He can see his eyes glinting at him though, reflecting the candlelight from his desk. Like a cat in the night.  
“Cleaning this thing since you’re too stupid to do it yourself” Flint grunts. He pushes Silvers hand away, a little too easily. He doesn’t comment on the tremor he feels. Underneath the blanket Silver is still wearing the prosthetic.  
“Christ, do you sleep with this thing on?”  
“I don’t need your help.”  
“I don’t care.”  
Flint loosens the clasps holding the prosthetic tight. The leather clings to Silver’s skin. The younger man grabs Flints arms and digs his nails in. Flint pries the leather loose with a ruthless pull. Silver can’t keep in the pained noise escaping his lips. It sounds like he’s as much scared as he’s in pain. Flint turns his back on him to fetch the candle from his desk, so Silver can collect himself and wipe the tears from his face. He kneels next to Silver and sets the candle on his chair. In the light he can see how the skin is raised, red, and glistening with infection in more than one place. He doesn’t say anything, but just tries to get to work with a rag and a bowl of water. When it really dawns on him what’s about happen, Silver’s entire body tenses and he tries to pull himself further away. His breathing is nervous. Silver flinches as soon as the rag touches his skin and slaps his hand away.  
“Do I need to hold you down like a child?” Flint asks.  
“Just – just leave it, no, leave it!” Silver bites, panic in his voice as Flint easily keeps his hands away. Flint holds his wrists with one hand and wets the rag again with the other.  
“No,” Silver says, his voice frantic and small, “no, no, please, Flint, don’t touch it, just – wait, wait”  
Despite his weakened state, the fear gives him enough determination to wiggle out from under Flints grasp. Flint tries to hold him down but he scratches him in the face. Flint swears and reaches out, but Silver knees him in the stomach with his wounded leg, which no doubt causes him more pain that it does Flint. Silver is like a fish in his arms, flailing wildly, until he eventually tumbles to the floor in the struggle. He cries out and Flint jerks back. He’s clutching his leg, but doesn’t appear to be bleeding.  
Flint swears.  
“Why does it bother you so much?” he asks. “The crew swore to protect you. You’ll always have a place here.” He knows the answer before the words have left his mouth.  
“Yeah”, Silver says. He sounds defeated. “But I didn’t want a place here, did I? This -” he gestures to his stump, “is a dead weight. It’s a chain keeping me here.”  
Flint understands. He couldn’t see why Silver acted like he had lost someone, but in a way, that’s exactly what has happened. He has lost the person he thought he could be – rich, safe, away from all this. The person he thought he was going to be.  
“I thought my life would be different once too” Flint says, and the words feel heavy, like dragging a dead body out of water. “Things changed. It didn’t kill me.”  
“But it almost did, didn’t it?” Silver asks. “And you had her. Mrs. Barlow. I… I have no one. And now I never will.”  
Flint looks at him. Sees the candlelight dancing in his eyes still. He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Any words he might have for this moment died, not with Miranda, but with Thomas. He hopes that this, whatever he can say with a look, is enough. And for the moment it seems to be. Silence hangs between them for long moments until Silver lowers his gaze and reaches up like a child to its parent. Flint helps him back up onto the alcove. He kneels and wets the rag for the third time. Silver clenches his teeth and actually whimpers as he starts dabbing at the sick flesh.  
“You do have an exceptionally low tolerance for pain” he says dryly. “Even Randall handled this better than you.”  
“Oh shut up” Silver groans. His voice manages to break more than once despite the limited number of words he utters. He’s breathing heavily, and he’s holding onto Flint shoulder, making sure his captain knows just how much he’s hurting him when he digs his nails in every time the pain becomes too much.  
“You know, if it’s being wanted you’re worried about, I’m sure it’s all the same to whores as long as you have coin.”  
“Your feeble attempts to lighten the mood are not helping so – fuck – shut up and hurry up, because I am literally moments away from pissing myself in pain” Silver says. Flint lifts the rag to give him a few moments to catch his breath.  
“Besides,” Silver adds, when his heartrate seems to have slowed a little, “you know that’s not what I meant”. His gaze is unwavering as he locks eyes with Flint. Flint grunts.  
“No, I suppose that’s not what you meant.”  
Silver doesn’t say anything for the duration of the ordeal, but when it’s over he’s drenched with cold sweat. Flint leaves the cabin and returns with fresh water and a clean rag. When Silver looks at him questionably he just shrugs.  
“You’re disgusting.”  
Silver huffs, but doesn’t protest when Flint makes him lifts his arms up over his head so he can pull his shirt off. The quartermaster was weak before – the fever hadn’t left much fight in him, and after the pain of getting his wound cleaned he’s trembling and can hardly clench his hands into fists. He closes his eyes and hums as Flint runs the rag over his torso. His nipples harden in the evening chill. Flints tugs down his trousers and cleans his thighs, his shin, his foot. He thought Silver had fallen asleep but he lets out a weird noise when Flint touches his toes.  
“This is kind of biblical” Silver mumbles. “Well, almost.”  
Flint rolls his eyes when he realizes that even in this exhausted and weakened state Silver is still capable of getting hard.  
“Are you going to clean me everywhere captain?” Silver asks sweetly.  
“You take care of that problem yourself while I go clean up” Flint grunts and gets up to leave. He’s almost out the door when a weak “please” makes him stop. He hovers by the door, thinking back to their first time together – everything was so different back then. It was easier to pretend it didn’t matter. He can’t let this become – whatever it is that it’s becoming. He can’t let Silver in. But if he shuts him out, he’s sure James McGraw will die for good.  
“Please” Silver asks again, and Flint turns around. The candle has burned out. Silvers skin has a blue shine to it in the moonlight. Flint kneels, and Silvers earlier comment about the position being biblical haunts him. When he touches Silver the other man shudders. He licks his lips. The “thank you” is faint, and Flint doesn’t respond. He can’t bring himself to be rough like he was last time. Silver looks like the soft touches are erasing the evenings pain from his body. Flint leans in over him and takes him into his mouth. The position is awkward but Silver comes quickly and quietly. He covers himself with the blanket again and they look at each other without speaking. Flint watches him until Silver falls asleep. Flint stays on the floor with his back against the alcove. Eventually he falls asleep too.


End file.
